


Machine Gun

by DasMervin, MrsHyde (DasMervin)



Series: The Writing on the Wall [15]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Badass Castiel, Begging, Bitchy Dean, Blasphemy, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Brooding, Canon-Typical Violence, Cas loved every minute of it, Come Swallowing, Dirty Talk, Doggy Style, Dom/sub/switch Undertones, Dominance, Dominant Bottom, Dominant Castiel, Dominant Dean, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Forceful Castiel, Freaked Out Dean, Frottage, Guilty Dean, Headcanon, Homophobic Language, Horny Castiel, Horny Dean, Human Castiel, Internalized Homophobia, Lube, M/M, Making Out, Oral Sex, Orders, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Bottom Dean, Past Dean/OFC, Past Pegging, Porn, Post-Coital Cuddling, Pushy Castiel, Rimming, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Screaming Orgasm, Seriously Dean he's fine, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Slash, Stop projecting your issues on him, Submissive Castiel, Submissive Dean, Sulky Dean, Surprise Sex, Teasing, Top Dean, Topping from the Bottom, Very Forceful Castiel, Wall Sex, demands, past BDSM, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 09:47:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasMervin/pseuds/DasMervin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/DasMervin/pseuds/MrsHyde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every time Cas has suggested something new in bed, he brought it up in the worst way possible and sent Dean running.  This time he does it right, and gets more than he bargained for.  Pure porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Machine Gun

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah…we’d actually originally planned to end this series with “Heartbeat.” Only once we finished it, we realized that we were suffering porn withdrawal, so we wrote this. It’s really porny. But we reasoned with ourselves that we couldn’t just leave them hanging after only having _bad_ sex, now could we?

_July 2022_

Okay, fine. Dean would concede on one point.

Cas was okay with a gun. He should be, after ten years as a human, but even so, it was not his strong point. He could aim and fire well enough, and didn’t fumble when he drew, but he was just…lacking a little. Dean supposed there was some human element that he was missing in his mechanical way of learning things that would never let him get to the point where it was second nature like it was for him and Sam. No, Cas just was not a gun kind of guy—never had been and probably never would be.

Cas was a _blade_ man.

It must’ve been the fact that he’d spent _thousands_ of years fighting with those angelic knives—fucking angelic _swords_ —but if it was sharp and pointy, the minute he picked it up he became an unstoppable, deadly little menace. So it was no surprise that when they’d burst into the abandoned barn that the small nest of vampires had holed up in, Cas had turned into a whirling dervish, slicing through every fang that came near him like he was cutting grass before spinning around and sending a knife coated with dead man’s blood whizzing through the air to bury itself into the back of the vamp that’d been sneaking up on Dean, sending it to its knees so Dean could finish the job.

Five vampires—and Cas had killed three of ‘em. Even had time to weaken Dean’s other kill for him. Clear winner. And this wasn’t the first time he’d put both Dean and his brother to shame with his knife work.

Fine. _Fine._ Dean would concede. Cas…was good with a knife. As good as any of them. _Better_ than any of them. _Including_ Dean.

Not that he’d actually say that to his face, of course. Cas would take Dean’s unspoken acknowledgement and like it.

The hunt was over now, though, and they were both heading back to the motel. Cas was sitting quietly next to him in the passenger seat staring out the window, squinting a little in the early-morning sun, and letting Dean crank his Foghat. Dean himself was practically bouncing in his seat, he was so wired after this hunt—it’d been so damned _easy_. Who said he was getting too old for this job? Fuck that—he and Cas just took out five vampires and hardly even needed the dead man’s blood they’d brought. Things were _awesome_. He’d get old when he friggin’ _said_ he was old and not before.

They made it back to the motel in record time, speeding through any yellow light they hit no matter how far back they were from it. Dean hopped out of the car the second he cut the engine, loping around to the back and opening the trunk so he could pull his bag out. He watched Cas out of the corner of his eye as he did the same, and then slammed the trunk shut and dug around in his pocket for the key. He growled in frustration when it didn’t come easily. Finally, he yanked it out right as they reached their door, the little “Do Not Disturb” sign still hanging from the handle, where it would stay until they left in the morning tomorrow. Dean fumbled a little with the key, but managed to jam it into the lock and got the door open, swinging it wide and striding inside, his entire body humming with post-hunt tension and excitement. When he threw the key over on the table by the door and turned to see Cas coming in after him, he decided right then that waiting could go to hell. He had needs _now_.

Dean’s bag fell to the floor with a thump and he grabbed Cas’s upper arms, pushing him backwards, and saw briefly that Cas didn’t look entirely surprised before Dean shut his eyes and found Cas’s mouth as his back thumped against the door, slamming it shut and leaving them in the dark and alone for the _whole day_. Dean groped for the locks on the door with his free hand while the other knotted in Cas’s hair, making him tilt his head back, and Dean was annoyed that Cas was screwing with his dexterity by already getting wandering hands and grabbing his ass.

Once the door was locked tight, Cas started pushing at Dean’s jacket and he let him, shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor. He paid him back by reaching down and grabbing his butt with both hands, hard and fierce, pulling him forward and grinding his hips against his own. Cas grunted, his fingers in Dean’s hair, holding him against his lips, and Dean growled in return as Cas sucked on his tongue.

He was already grappling up under Cas’s shirt because he wanted _skin_ , dammit, and Cas was of course burning hot as always but it was fine—Dean was hot, too, and he didn’t cool down when his shirt was flung away because Cas’s was too and then all that hot flesh was up against his own so now he was just straight-up on _fire_.

Dean pulled away from Cas’s mouth to attack his neck, listening to Cas’s quick little pants and seeking out every spot he knew would make Cas gasp, rhythmically bumping his hips against Cas’s as he did. Cas twitched and shuddered as his fingers dug painfully into Dean’s shoulders and he humped him right back, his pulse already hammering out of control.

After he was breathing hard himself, Dean dragged his mouth away from Cas’s throat to rest his cheek against Cas’s, his arms tight around him. This was nice and all, but he knew how to make it better for all involved, considering they were both still filthy from the hunt and he’d just tasted all of the grit and sweat clinging to Cas’s skin, and Dean knew he was no better.

He kissed Cas again, hard and forcefully, but kept it brief. “Cas,” he said in a low voice against his mouth. “Take your fucking clothes off and get in the fucking shower.”

Watching Cas so quickly following an order he’d given him had never turned Dean on so bad as it did right now. Dean couldn’t even laugh at the way he was practically running across the room to get in there, clothes falling off him the whole way, because Dean was pretty much doing the same fucking thing, fumbling at his jeans and kicking out of his boots. Goddammit, Cas had no right to make him this horny.

By the time Dean was in the bathroom and throwing his jeans on the floor, the shower was going and Cas was in it—apparently, he still retained some angelic ability to make his clothes vanish in the blink of an eye. Well, Dean wasn’t going to complain about it this time—he just wished he still possessed the ability to make Dean fly out of _his_ clothes too because he was having serious post-hunt adrenaline and his fingers wouldn’t fucking work right and he had nearly broken his neck trying to yank off his boots and get out of his pants at the same time. But he hadn’t, and he was now as naked as the day he was born; not even kicking the bathroom door shut, Dean just charged in after Cas, hissing when the too-hot water hit his skin. And that was just enough hesitation for Cas, who had apparently been lying in wait for him. Cas’s already wet hands were suddenly on Dean’s upper arms, using the momentum of Dean’s jump into the tub to shove him against the wall. Then Cas was on him, his fingers trying to touch every exposed part of Dean at once, his mouth and teeth insistent.

Dean only put up with his molestation for a few moments, getting used to the water as the spray was already washing away most of the hunt—and being helped along by Cas’s roving hands—but Dean finally decided he’d had enough because no way was Cas gonna run this show. This was Dean’s idea, so he was in charge.

He seized Cas’s wrists—and not a moment too soon, because Cas was reaching down to grab his dick—and spun them around, slamming his wrists against the wall and pinning his hands by his head. Cas’s startled gasp turned into a muffled moan when Dean’s mouth covered his, his tongue seeking and demanding, Dean’s body pressed up against him and rubbing them both in places that were so awesome in so many ways. Cas was struggling to get his hands free so he could grope him some more, but Dean just kept him restrained where he was, his hips pressed tightly against Cas’s so their cocks slid back and forth against each other, the heat of the water making it damn near unbearable.

But Dean did not want things to end too early—half the fun to be had with their little shower expeditions had not _been_ had yet, so he ground against Cas just a couple more times before really thrusting forward but not pulling back, while tonguing Cas in the way that would make him wheeze helplessly at the end of it. Really, Dean was starting to suspect that Cas went wild on purpose so Dean would kiss and mash him into submission because he was a kinky little weirdo. Well, Dean would happily oblige him this time.

After Cas had calmed his feathery butt down, Dean let him go, grabbing both of their washrags and the soap. Cas just watched silently, his breath still coming in short bursts, as Dean lathered them both up quickly, and then Cas took one rag from him as Dean curled his arm around Cas’s waist again and picked a spot at random to start soaping him up—yep, his hip was good place, he decided—while Cas wasted no time in dragging his own soapy rag up Dean’s back.

They were both keeping their motions firm but slow, but Dean could tell Cas was just as barely restrained as he was. Apparently, Cas was just as eager to get to the finish line, but seemed to agree that they should maybe take a little time sprinting down the home stretch—after all, it made the sprint all the more awesome when they finally got there. Cas tilted his head back as Dean slid the rag across his throat while he trailed his fingers around to Dean’s chest, dragging them down until they were pressed against Dean’s stomach. But they didn’t linger, and those slick hands were soon on the move again, up Dean’s sides and across his shoulders even as Dean dragged his own fingers through the foam across Cas’s chest.

Little soapy trails were oozing down Dean’s legs like teasing fingers. The water from the showerhead pounded against him, hot and steaming, and as much as he was enjoying this, he couldn’t take much more of it. He’d wanted to make things last, but he’d barely gotten started and _everything_ was teasing him, and he hadn’t calmed down at all, was still _painfully_ hard, and he had a feeling Cas was in the same boat, just judging by the way his hands were shaking and his hips were still making little reflexive movements against Dean where he was pressed against him. Dean’s soapy stroking had become more perfunctory, just scrubbing at the parts that needed cleaning, but Cas’s touches were becoming less scrubbing and more _fondling_ , and soon Dean was doing the same thing, and with a thump and a gasp Cas was back against the wall and the rags were gone and it was all just slick fingers and hot water. Cas had his arms tight around Dean, clinging to his shoulders as Dean mashed him hard against the wall, stroking down and gripping his ass tightly, squeezing and thrusting against him again, and Dean found Cas’s mouth to do battle with Cas’s tongue again and Jesus _God_ , he was about to explode—thighs, he had to get there, he _needed_ to just—

Cas tore away from Dean’s mouth, panting, and groaned, “Dean,” and Dean shuddered as Cas’s hand suddenly slipped between them and gripped his cock, low and tight, but he didn’t move, didn’t stroke him, didn’t guide him where he wanted to be, just held him _still_ , what the _fuck_ —but then he realized that the tone hadn’t been quite what it usually was—Cas wasn’t just trying to turn him on. He was trying to get his attention.

Dean swallowed, staring at Cas and his flushed, wet face, struggling to focus through the haze in his brain and Cas’s foamy fingers on his prick and the way his tongue came out to lick at his wet lips. “Do you want to have sex with me again?” he asked.

Oh, _fuck_.

Dean couldn’t reply. His voice was gone, his throat stuck, and he was frozen where he was. He—goddammit, he—they’d already done that! He thought—he thought he wasn’t gonna _do_ that anymore, but—oh God, Cas had started stroking him, and while Dean’s brain hadn’t quite caught up to things every other part of Dean was screaming _yes_ , let’s fuck Cas where it counts, and while at first all he could remember of that first time was how _bad_ it’d been and how horribly awkward it was after, suddenly all he could think of was—the way he—he had— _he wanted_ —Jesus, he was so _hard_ —

“ _Dean._ ”

The way Cas _demanded_ Dean’s attention again shot straight to his groin and he stared, his mouth dry, at Cas’s fiery, intense stare, little droplets of water clinging to his lower lip, shivering as he panted, his mouth open a little.

“Dean—you liked it. You do want to, don’t you?”

“Cas—I—” Dean was stuttering and couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You _did_ like it. You _said_ you did.”

Dean was shaking his head numbly, not in a negative but just because he was trying to _clear_ it—he was so—goddammit, he couldn’t _think_ , not with Cas’s hand where it was, not with the way he was—

“I _want_ you to. _Please._ ”

His fingers tightened, and Dean grunted almost pathetically.

“Have sex with me.”

Cas was insistent and desperate all at the same time, and Dean barely had time to realize that while he might have been _begging_ , Cas had just pretty much given him an _order_ , because he wasn’t in charge of his movements anymore—no, his body and brain were now conspiring against him, and everything had just come together and holy fucking shit, he wanted to fuck Cas and he wanted to fuck him _now_. No, it had gone beyond _want_ —he _needed_ to.

Bag—the bag with his clothes—yes, still there by the toilet where he’d left it last night, thank _God_ , because he didn’t think he would’ve done this right if it was still out in the main room—he was so desperate right now that some part of him wanted to just skip the formalities and tell Cas to face the wall and drop the fucking soap already. But he didn’t, instead flinging the curtain back and stumbling out of the tub, not caring that he was dripping water everywhere and caring even less that he was soaking his bag and anything in it. He frantically unzipped the pocket that held the good lube and the box of condoms that he still had—still had from last year, only used once—

He was back in the hot water in a heartbeat and Cas’s hands were grasping eagerly at him, and for a moment Dean had no idea what to do with the shit in his hands—where was he supposed to _put_ it?! His muddy brain finally pointed out the soap dish, one conveniently high and set in the wall. After he haphazardly shoved the soap aside and jammed the lube and his condom in it, he seized Cas, grabbing him by the hair and yanking his head back, kissing him hard and fierce, but he didn’t waste a whole lot of time doing that. He gripped Cas by the arms and whirled him around, mashing him against the wall face-first, pressing his chest against Cas’s back and panting in his ear, his hips bumping Cas’s ass and _fuck_ , the way his dick slipped down in the wet furrow of his buttcheeks, and he knew what was coming and he wanted it so _bad_ —

As he fumbled with the lube, frantic to get it open, Dean despised that Cas had the nerve to make him go all butterfingers when he really got him going. The tiny rational part of his brain that wouldn’t fucking shut up was pointedly reminding him exactly what he was about to do—yeah, fuck Cas in the ass again—and trying to tell him that he would probably regret it later, but the rest of him didn’t give a shit. The rest was just thinking _sex_ , sex with _Cas_ , sex with Cas in the _shower_ , and once he got the lube all over his hand and on his fingers he was sliding down, biting down on Cas’s neck as he slipped his finger home—

Cas groaned, his hand flexing against the wall as Dean worked him, licking and sucking all up and down his neck as he did. Cas pushed back, whimpering as Dean pulled out and then pushed two fingers back up inside him, and Dean remembered that even the first time around Cas had loved this part—it hadn’t just been the blowjob he’d been getting at the time that had made him make all that noise, no, he _liked_ getting his ass fingered. So Dean kept it up, pushing deeper, only this time he forced in a third finger, stretching his ass, and Cas just moaned, practically clawing at the wall now, gasping and hissing approval every time Dean pressed in deep. God _damn_ , he was so _hot_ inside, and Dean was in so deep, and he couldn’t _take_ it anymore, listening to Cas’s moans, feeling the way his ass clenched around Dean’s knuckles—he was so fucking _hard_ from it that he was in _pain_ and Cas was having all the fun and it wasn’t fucking _fair_ , this was his fucking idea!

That was good enough for Dean, and it had better be good enough for Cas, because that was _it_. Dean grabbed at the condom with his other hand, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth and letting the plastic fall into the tub. Jesus _Christ_ , the sound Cas made when Dean pulled out of him and feel of his fingers slipping free and knowing that in just a few seconds that would be his _cock_ —he couldn’t get the rubber on fast enough and then he seized Cas’s hip hard enough to bruise with one hand and gripped his prick with the other, and one last coherent part of his mind screamed _slow slow slow—!_

 _Slow!_ He just barely managed to put on the brakes, because no, he wasn’t gonna do that, he was _not_ gonna ream Cas out, no matter how fucking horny he was (and no matter how much the overeager part of his brain insisted that Cas wouldn’t care). So he greased up the condom with the lube on his hand, maneuvered until he was positioned right, hissing through his teeth as the head of his cock nudged the cleft of his ass, and then he slowly pushed forward— _oh God_ —

He went as slow as he could, hearing Cas’s tiny intake of breath as he did, and Dean was shaking with the effort of holding back because he would _not_ just slam home, he _refused_ , he was not gonna do that to him, but the way it was— _Jesus Christ_ , why was it that when he got _inside_ something he realized how goddamn _long_ it had been and just wanted to _fuck_ —

He stopped when his hips were pressed all the way up against Cas’s ass, trembling from head to toe, the water still burning hot, but _everything_ was burning hot, because he was holding Cas tightly to him and was with him in the shower and _inside_ him and that still-rational part kept trying to make him realize that he was _balls-deep in a guy’s ass_ but the rest didn’t care because he was not fucking _some guy_ , he was fucking _Cas_ , he was with _Cas_ , Cas _wanted_ it because he wanted to _please_ him, wanted to let him _do_ this, and—

Dean twitched when he felt Cas’s fingers touch his cheek, and then his hand slid back further to his hair, holding his mouth on his neck while his other hand was still pressed against the wall. “It’s all right, Dean,” he whispered, barely audible over the noise of the shower, and he turned his head and fucking _looked_ at him over his shoulder, all flushed and wet and _coy_. “I’m all right.”

And Dean moaned when he felt Cas push his ass back against him, just a little, and Dean couldn’t stand it anymore and started to move, back and forth, in and out, keeping it slow, _agonizingly_ slow, one of his hands low on Cas’s hip and the other wrapped tight around his middle. He kept his chest flush with Cas’s back, just moving his hips in little shallow thrusts, and it was taking everything he had to keep it as slow as he was going because he wanted to _move_ , he wanted to—holy God, he _wanted_ to do this, he wanted it so _bad_ , he wanted to just _pound_ that ass because it felt so fucking _good_ , hot and tight around his cock and he was just—it was _Cas_. He was doing this, having sex, _real sex_ , with _Cas_.

Though Dean was making noise almost every time he pushed forward, Cas was quiet, just letting out a quick exhale every time Dean thrust into him. Dean was afraid to open his eyes and look at him, because he just _knew_ that Cas might have been “all right,” but he sure as hell couldn’t be _enjoying_ it—he was getting fucked up the ass!—but Dean didn’t think he could _stop_ , not even this slow pace, because he didn’t think Cas wouldn’t _let him_. No, if he tried to stop and pull away Cas would just _beg_ again ‘cause he knew Dean couldn’t resist that, no matter what it was. So he kept moving, slow and steady, pressing his face tight against the nape of his neck, that slick, tight pressure on his prick _everything_ he wanted from Cas right now—everything that Cas was _giving_ him right now.

He pulled back almost all the way out before he pushed forward again, still slowly, but he ground his hips hard against Cas, shuddering, and he paused, his fingers digging hard against Cas’s flesh as he panted against Cas’s shoulder. Cas wasn’t tense anymore, relaxing under his grasping hands, and Dean felt the fingers in his hair flex, and he looked up and _fuck_ , Cas was looking back at him again, his eyes half-lidded, his mouth open, water dripping down his chin and neck.

“Don’t stop, Dean,” he murmured.

Jesus fucking _Christ_ , was Cas trying to _kill_ him?!

He moved again, thrusting forward harder this time, and watched Cas’s eyes fall shut even as he shivered uncontrollably. Cas didn’t react badly—no, he looked pretty fine with it, but there was still some coherent part of Dean’s brain insisting he not just—just fucking _use_ Cas, so he slid one hand off of his hip and across Cas’s stomach before he reached down to seize his cock, and holy shit, he was hard, somehow or other Cas _was_ enjoying this, Cas was _enjoying_ Dean fucking him, and Dean started jacking him as he thrust, biting down again on the hot, wet skin of Cas’s shoulder because he was losing his mind now, that was all there was to it.

It wasn’t like before. He was just lucid enough to realize that, that this was _nothing_ like that first time—this was fucking _fantastic_ , because this time he just didn’t _care_ about anything but being inside of Cas and hearing those little happy noises Cas was making. Dean kept his rhythm steady and even, squeezing his eyes shut and moaning against Cas’s shoulder, knowing that no matter how slow he went, none of this was gonna last long because it never did, never the first time around after a hunt when they were all groping and grinding and pent-up lust, but this was worse than ever because it was all _too much_ , he couldn’t take this, _inside_ —

Cas was panting and grunting with him now, his cheek pressed up against the tile of the shower wall, his fingers tight enough to hurt where they were gripping Dean’s hair, and he tilted his chin back and pulled Dean’s head forward. Dean leaned into it, managing to sloppily kiss him even at that awkward angle. As Dean slid his tongue away, Cas just breathed against his mouth: “ _Dean._ ”

Cas groaned when Dean’s hips gave a helpless jerk, pressing him even tighter against the wall as he started moving faster because he couldn’t help it, and he thrust harder, but through the growing haze in his mind Dean could see Cas didn’t care, no, he could feel him bumping backwards, moving against him every time as best he could, and—oh _fuck_ , was he _squeezing_ —?

Dean moved his hand faster, pumping his tight fist on Cas’s dick, and he heard Cas whimper in response, and Dean kept thrusting, kept _fucking_ him, faster and deeper, and he could already feel things starting to coil tighter in his stomach and his balls but he didn’t want to come before Cas because it wouldn’t be fair and it wouldn’t be happening, because he was _Dean Winchester_ and he didn’t leave anybody hanging like that—but he didn’t know if he could hold off, and he didn’t want to _stop_. He sucked frantically at Cas’s neck, licking at his pounding pulse, hearing the wet sound of his hips slapping against Cas’s ass, and Cas’s moans were getting louder, he was close, Dean _knew_ he was close, and _God_ , he just needed Cas to come so _he_ could, so he did the only thing he could think of and slid his free palm up from his hip as he jacked him hard and fast, and pressed his hand right on Cas’s breastbone and bit down right where his neck met his shoulder and then groaned his name against his flesh—

Cas’s little cry was damn near pitiful. Dean could feel on his fingers that Cas was coming all over Dean’s hand and the wall, and Dean’s hips started to lose their rhythm as he thrust frantically because yes, _yes_ —

“Fuck— _oh fuck, Cas!_ ” he howled, wrapping his arms around him and just _squeezing_ , pressing every inch of Cas up against him as Dean just _slammed_ his hips forward and buried his cock in his ass as he came, came _hard_ , came _in_ him, smashing Cas against the wall and _yes yes yes God yes this was it was all Cas nothing but Cas Cas Cas CAS—_

It was over all too fast, and then Dean was nothing but a sagging, shaking lump, leaning heavily against Cas and probably mashing him uncomfortably against the wall. Dean shifted as best he could, moaning a little when his movement caused his softening prick to slide out of Cas, and now he was only half-leaning on him, the rest of him against the cool tile, his eyes shut. As the neurons in his brain finally woke up and started firing again, he was slowly becoming aware of how hot and steamy everything felt. Even with the door open, Cas’s super-heated showers still steamed up things bad.

Dean finally opened his eyes, his chest still heaving, and saw Cas was looking back, right at him, all content and satisfied—and was that little bastard looking _smug_ —?

And then that little rational, _Sam-like_ part of his brain, which had been waiting patiently up ‘til now, decided to make itself known, and Dean finally realized that yes, he’d just fucked Cas in the butt again. _Desperately_ fucked him in the butt. And it hadn’t been just to make Cas happy, so he couldn’t use that excuse—no, the minute Cas had suggested it, he’d—

_Oh, god-fucking-dammit._

Dean quickly heaved himself away from the wall, taking a quick step away from Cas and nearly falling out of the tub in the process, that eager to get away from him. Then he remembered that his package was still gift-wrapped, so, refusing to look at it, he peeled the used slicker off his limp dick and gingerly held it between two fingers as he yanked the curtain back and stumbled out of the shower, muttering, “Clean yourself off,” as he went. He threw the incriminating evidence of his latest spelunk in Cas’s ass in the trash, wincing at the loud wet noise it made when it landed, and stomped out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him, forgoing a towel and not caring that he was tracking water everywhere. After a perfunctory scrub of his hands at the sink, he went straight for Cas’s bed and, still dripping wet, just flung his wet self all over it, getting the blankets and sheets all damp and deciding that he was gonna crank the A/C down to thirty-fucking-three degrees and make sure that rotten bastard slept in a wet bed tonight. See how smug the horny halo was _then_.

Dammit, he’d— _dammit!_ That had _not_ been on the fucking menu! When he wanted action in the shower with Cas, he wanted just wanted some rubbing or a little mutual jerking off, he didn’t want— _that!_ He never _asked_ for that, he never _thought_ of that, he never _did_ that! Hell, he hadn’t even thought about it since that first time—okay, fine, that was a lie, he’d been spanking the monkey in the bathroom when he and Sam had been on a hunt earlier in the year and had finished up by remembering that tight ass, but it’d been just that once! _Once!_ And he’d been hornier than a puffer fish at the time ‘cause he hadn’t seen Cas in forever and was hard up and hadn’t meant to do it so it hardly counted anyway! No—every time Cas _hinted_ that he’d be fine with Dean stickin’ it in him for the past year, Dean had _refused_ , straight-up, not even _wanted_ it. So why the hell did he just assume Dean _did_ want it again, and all the fucking time?! Where the fuck did he get off springing that on him like that?!

_Oh, he got off, all right._

Dean’s scowl deepened and he rolled over on his stomach, glaring at the opposite wall. The shower was still running, and Dean considered getting under the covers to really make things uncomfortable for Cas later, but he was still toasty from the too-hot shower that Cas always ran, so he stayed on top, all flopped out on his stomach, his mood sour.

How the fuck had Cas even gotten off at all, anyway? It…wasn’t like Dean had been quite as gentle this time around—Cas definitely hadn’t been enthusiastic at all while taking it up the butt the first time they’d done it. Dean knew Cas liked things a little rough sometimes, but there was a huge difference between some forceful groping and a goddamn prison shower scene. Towards the end in there, Dean had been—been fucking _unrestrained_ , but Cas had just—

Dean was starting to think he’d never figure him out.

One thing was for sure—this was the _second_ fucking time that asshole had made him do a bunch of seriously gay shit. Twice was _enough_ , thank you very much! He was putting his foot down. Okay, fine, maybe all those times Cas had hinted was just him trying for a…more _enjoyable_ time than his first one. Well, _there_. Dean would give in for that—now he’d had an enjoyable time. That _more_ than made up for the first time they’d done it where Cas had been all… _hurting_ and crap, ‘cause he’d gotten off just fine this time. He couldn’t even bitch that _Dean_ hadn’t enjoyed it because fuck him sideways, _nothing_ about what he’d just done had been like the first time for either of them, up to and including the fact that he’d _loved every minute of it_ , and that just pissed him off even more. What the fuck? Where he hell had that even _come_ from?! He never wanted that! Was Cas—was Cas trying to _make_ him want his ass? That was so not happening and Dean was gonna tell him.

Well—he glowered at the sound of the shower shutting off—he’d tell him as soon as he was done ignoring him.

He was not talking to him. He could hear Cas messing around in the bathroom, and he knew he’d come out here when he was done and try to get under the blankets and get some post-nookie cuddles, and he was _so_ not gonna get any. Dean sprawled further across the bed and centered himself, making it so Cas couldn’t get under the blankets and so would freeze his candy-ass off and like it.

Dean ignored the quiet sounds of Cas padding across the room, paid zero attention to when he messed around on the table behind him next to the bed, and made it more than clear that Cas was _not_ invited to Dean Land as the bed shifted and he climbed in. He didn’t even try to get under the blankets but went right for Dean, curling up next to him and practically laying on top of him, his chest pressed against Dean’s back. Well, he could try and snuggle all he wanted—Dean wasn’t moving.

Naturally, Cas had to ruin a perfectly good snub by not getting it and just being all _content_ anyway. He didn’t speak or try to make Dean look at him or even make him move to give him more room. He just sat there, his cheek resting against Dean’s shoulder blade and his warm breath skating across his skin while his hands just petted his back idly. Bastard.

Dean knew he was probably gonna fall asleep up there; well, let ‘im. Dean would wait until he did and jerk out from under him—or maybe just roll backwards and throw him clean off the bed. Dean had done all of the falling out of bed in this situation so far, maybe it was time for Cas to take the tumble this time. No, he wouldn’t do that—to do that would mean he would have to acknowledge Cas existed and he wasn’t going to do that because Cas was an asshat. Dean took a little satisfaction in knowing that, with Cas draped over him like a warm blanket, Cas would freeze all naked and wet, but Dean would not. Good.

Dean was pleased with how well he managed to tune out the gentle and mesmerizing strokes of Cas’s fingers up and down his side and shoulders. He kept his eyes firmly closed, refusing to sigh or relax or sleep ‘cause Cas was a prick. As usual, Cas did not pick up the hint and kept it up. That, or maybe he thought that, if he was tenacious enough with his soppy cuddling crap, Dean’d unbend. _Not this time, you little shit._

It didn’t take too long for Cas’s motions to slow and eventually stop, his head resting heavily on his shoulder, and soon Dean could hear how deep and even his breathing had gone and knew he had dozed off. God help the runt if he drooled on him. Dean resisted the impulse to throw him off and just growled internally.

He supposed it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been like that first time. Then again, the fact that it _hadn’t_ been like the first time actually did make it worse, didn’t it? Last time he hadn’t been into it _at all_ , not until he got close and was too far gone to care. This time, though—Cas asking for Dean to have gay sex with him hadn’t sent Dean’s cock running for cover, oh no, it’d made his libido do fucking _cartwheels_ , and it had taken barely ten seconds of persuasion before Dean had let him have it and had enjoyed every hot, tight, slick, sliding, _gay_ minute of it.

Shit.

 _It’s not gay sex_ , his mind insisted stubbornly. _‘Cause you aren’t gay. It’s just Cas. It’s_ different _. It’s just pretending to be gay sex to freak you out._

Well, it was doing a good fucking job of it!

He refused to settle in more comfortably on the bed because that would jostle Cas awake and he’d somehow interpret that as Dean being fine with things now, the pisswah. So he just sat there, rather unsuccessfully trying to shake off the post-orgasmic sleepiness that had finally caught up with him. He eventually gave up on fighting it, realizing that dozing a little was an easy way to ignore Cas that required no effort on his part and would let him recover his energy so he could actively ignore him later. Fine—he’d have his doze with Cas on top of him. But he wouldn’t like it.

It wasn’t a real nap or anything. He closed his eyes, then opened them again to see that the hand on the wall clock had gone from 8:17 to 8:42 in the blink of an eye. Cas didn’t move, didn’t make a sound, just laid there—a hot and heavy weight across Dean’s back and Dean absolutely refused to acknowledge that it was a comforting one in any way.

Dean eyes drifted shut again as Cas sighed softly. _Prick_ , he thought sluggishly, nodding off again.

When he snapped awake for the fourth time, it took him a second to realize why it felt different than the other times he’d dozed off and then woken up—because he hadn’t just woken up. _Something_ had woken him up, and that something was Cas.

Cas was already awake and he was moving again. He’d settled more solidly on top of him, and Dean could feel more hot, bare skin up against his own. Cas wasn’t just petting him—no, Dean could feel the soft flutter of his lips against his shoulder, the back of his neck, and then Cas’s freshly-shaved cheek would press against him and he’d sigh.

Dean glared blackly at the pillow. He just _knew_ Cas had been molesting him in his sleep, the perv. Dean’s mood had not improved with his off-and-on nap, and waking up to this didn’t make it any better. Did Cas seriously think he was gonna get some more action on this trip? Or did he think Dean didn’t recognize those sweet little kisses and gentle touches? He wasn’t stupid. After ten years with him and all their times of sneaking off on hunts for a little slap-and-tickle in motel rooms, of course Dean knew what Cas was doing. Cas was being all _inviting_. He _was_ trying to go for seconds. Fuck that noise—he wasn’t getting a damn thing and all the pawing in the world wouldn’t make Dean change his mind.

Dean knew he’d tensed up in his stubborn determination to ignore Cas once he figured out what Cas was doing, and he knew the featherhead could feel it and so knew Dean was awake. That didn’t put him off, of course. Dean also knew that if he outright _told_ Cas to fuck off and leave him alone, he’d do it. But if he did that, not only would Dean lose the pleasure of snubbing him, but Cas would mope for weeks and Dean didn’t want to bother with that. That, and if he told Cas to stop it, that would mean acknowledging Cas was there at all and he still wasn’t interested in that.

Cas was on the move again, his mouth feather-light against Dean’s shoulder, and his weight shifted as he climbed further on top of him, still gentle and teasing with zero insistence—he clearly wanted Dean to start participating. Hmph.

Cas’s mouth was still pressing all over his back, but between kisses he had started nipping here and there, his teeth scraping spots where he knew Dean was sensitive. He was slowly moving down, and Dean couldn’t help but twitch a little when he felt Cas suck gently at a spot below his shoulder, and he ground his teeth—the jerk was giving him a hickey. Didn’t matter. Dean was still not participating.

The strokes of Cas’s hands were a little firmer now, and he kissed Dean’s spine, right between his shoulder blades, and then he felt his tongue lap gently at the same spot. Then he just started kissing and licking and nibbling down Dean’s backbone, his fingers brushing over Dean’s skin, his body sliding down across Dean’s, and Dean was far too busy reciting every line from _Roadhouse_ to bother paying any attention to what Cas was doing to his back—or his butt. Cas could reach down and give his ass a squeeze all he wanted, he wasn’t going to give Cas the pleasure of even knowing he’d annoyed him.

Cas was circling every node in his spine with the tip of his tongue as he went, inching his way down, and soon he was kissing softly right at the small of Dean’s back, nibbling right above his ass, and—what the fuck, why was Cas massaging his butt? Did he think he was sore? He wasn’t the one who just took it in the bunghole, thank you very much, so Cas could just quit _kneading_ his buttcheeks, dammit. But no, Cas just kept it up, his hands gently squeezing as he sucked right atop Dean’s left cheek—Dean was about ready to tell the punk to stop leaving hickeys all over him, particularly on his back. He was self-conscious about those, because he couldn’t see them as well and so could never be sure if he was _hiding_ them as well. Man, if his jeans rode a little low and he stretched, anyone ( _Sam_ ) could see that red mark right above his ass.

There was a pause, and Dean felt Cas breathe softly against the spot he’d just been worrying on. Dean felt no more movement, and for a moment wondered if Cas had finally gotten the hint and realized he was being totally (and effectively) ignored.

And then suddenly Cas started eating him out and the entire fucking planet exploded.

Dean gave a strangled screech, too shocked to even think about how girly it sounded, but Cas obviously thought that was just great and squeezed his hips and licked _harder_ , but _slow_ , licked his _ass_ —

“ _What—Cas—?!_ ” he shrieked, his voice high and cracking, but that got cut off because _fuck_ , that—Jesus _Christ_ , he was— _Cas was still doing it—!_

“Cas— _C-Cas_ , you—this is—” But then his words were lost and he still didn’t know what he’d been planning on saying because one hand released his hip and shoved itself up between his thighs and grabbed his balls, _squeezing_ , squeezing while his tongue was—oh holy motherfucking _Christ_ the way he was—this wasn’t—no, Dean couldn’t _take_ this— _Cas was a dude, dudes couldn’t do this—!_

Oh, but he could, and he _was_ , over and over, and Dean tried to say something, _anything_ , but Cas seemed to know he was about to and licked _harder_ , the tip of his tongue pressing against him, pressing _into_ him, and all Dean could do was let out a helpless, shaky _guh_ , clawing at the pillows, his head thrashing back and forth.

 _He’s—fuck me fuck me Cas is tongue-fucking me, licking my fucking_ asshole _, eating me out, rimming—_

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t process what was happening, couldn’t connect the shock that had made his mind shatter and sent the pieces all over the room with just _how good_ what was going on down there felt because Cas hadn’t started slow and hesitant and then built up like he always did when trying something new, no, he’d fucking _charged_ and unleashed it all at once and Dean could not _take_ this—he couldn’t take _any_ of it. Because it _wasn’t_ new for Dean, fuck no, he’d more than once loved it when a woman went for it, but this was _not a woman_ , this was—

Dean knew he was moaning and panting and shaking, and he was still struggling to _talk_ , to do _something_ , and he felt the fingers on his hip tighten and Cas just yanked him forward, getting him half on his knees, his ass in the air and his face buried in his pillow but Cas didn’t stop tonguing him—no, he kept right on doing that, and Dean whimpered pathetically when the hand between his legs snaked further forward, gripping his rapidly hardening cock and squeezing and jerking just as fiercely as he was doing everything else.

His hands convulsed and tore at the bedspread, his breath coming in whistling gasps, and no, he couldn’t take this, _couldn’t_ , because part of him was _loving_ this and that part was _too much_ and it felt _too good_ , because _Cas_ was too good, his tongue rapid and lapping and _pushing_ —

“Cas—I—” he almost wailed, and stunned relief and crushing disappointment slammed together when Cas’s mouth and tongue were suddenly gone and the hand released his dick, but Dean didn’t have more than a second to figure out what had just happened because his hips were being grabbed and he was being turned over—no, he was being _yanked_ over, Cas was all but _throwing_ him on his back, just like Dean would sometimes do to him, and Dean flailed and struggled to sit up, managing to get propped up on his palms as Cas went right for his usual target—

Once more Dean’s words were cut off and nothing came out but a choked groan because Cas just charged him again, practically diving down between his legs and grabbing his cock and immediately _sucking_ , swallowing him down, _what the fuck was this_?! Dean collapsed backwards, his hands spastically flailing until he got his fingers buried in Cas’s hair, knowing he was probably yanking it but there was no room for that kind of consideration right now, not with this _insane_ Cas that had suddenly decided to fucking _attack_ him—and because he now couldn’t think of anything but the awesome blowjob he was getting now.

Only the fact that he was barely an hour off the last orgasm was keeping him from going off again like a fourteen-year-old virgin. The combination of what Cas was doing now with what he’d just _done_ was setting him on fire, his belly burning hot, mindless groaning and half-formed encouragements the only sounds escaping his throat. Cas was sucking hard, moving fast, and Dean nearly sobbed in agony when Cas pulled back and pushed his tongue into the slit at the top of his prick, lapping rapidly, his fist pumping, and then he was sucking again—

All the air went out of his lungs and he fruitlessly pushed against the back of Cas’s head when he suddenly pulled away, his hand low and tight on Dean’s cock. Cas just shook his hands away, and Dean finally looked down again, trying to fucking _breathe_.

“Dean,” Cas murmured, right against his prick, and Dean shuddered violently when his tongue flicked out to brush the head of his cock. “Have sex with me.”

Dean blinked stupidly, Cas’s words taking forever to penetrate the fuzziness of his brain, but when they finally did, he struggled to sit up, struggled to _talk_. “Cas—are you—”

Once more Cas silenced him by licking hard. “Dean, you _do_ like it, and I _know_ you do. You told me.” Another hard suck and Dean whimpered. “And _I_ want it. _I_ like it.” Lick. Suck. “We both enjoy it. Have sex with me.”

“Cas,” Dean stammered, struggling once more because _fuck yes, he wanted to fuck Cas_ , but— “once—once is one thing, but twice—” _oh Christ tongue swirling so fast sucking so hard fuck fuck yes yes yes—_

“Twice will be two things,” Cas replied, and Cas so rarely fired off any kind of smartassery _anywhere_ that it never failed to render Dean speechless and this time was no different—only it was worse because it was aided by Cas’s dirty tricks.

Dean blinked and Cas was suddenly right up next to his face, his body pressed against him, his lips right next to his. “ _Dean_ ,” he breathed, and Dean’s hands clenched into fists in the blanket as the fire shot down his spine and straight to his groin. “I want this. I want to do this with you. Please.”

And Dean wanted it, too. There wasn’t even the annoying Sam-voice mockingly pointing out that he wanted to have gay sex _again_ , twice in an hour, because it was smothered under two tons of pure fucking lust for the guy who was astride him, rocking gently against his hard-on, holy fucking _God_ , he wanted him, and Cas wanted him too, they _both_ wanted it, and he couldn’t take the intensity of that gaze anymore and turned, trying to figure out how to clear his head—

—was that a condom and the tube of lube already on the table next to him, yes it fucking was _had that son of a bitch planned this whole fucking thing he was gonna fucking KILL HIM—!_

Cas’s tongue thrust eagerly and insistently into his mouth as he kissed him, kissed him with his mouth that had been on Dean’s dick and his tongue that had been up Dean’s ass, his pelvis grinding down hard, rubbing their cocks together and rubbing his _ass_ against him, and Dean clung to him, holy _God_ , he had to have him, who gave a fuck if it was twice, he had to have Cas—he had to have _all_ of Cas.

After he paid him back for this fucking _seduction_ act. Oh, so Cas wanted Dean to fuck him, huh? Oh, he was gonna fuck him, all right—he was gonna make Cas his little bitch in _every sense of the fucking word_!

He wasted no time in flipping Cas on his back, and once Dean had him beneath him, he kissed him roughly, crushing him into the mattress and biting his lip. Cas’s fingers groped up and down his back, Dean’s thigh rubbing against Cas’s hip. As Dean sucked on Cas’s tongue, he finalized his plans, knowing exactly what he was gonna do, and then he pulled away, skimming down Cas’s torso and biting at his stomach before he sat up, staring down at Cas as he rocked back on his knees.

“You don’t move,” he ground out. Cas stopped, propped up on his elbows, and watched as Dean slid out of the bed. He could feel Cas’s eyes on him as he crossed the room, but he ignored him. He just went into the bathroom and opened the same pocket that had held the good lube and condoms; he dug around for what he knew would be in there, what he’d bought three months ago on their last hunt—

There. The flavored lube. Vanilla—his favorite. A little went a long way.

He stalked back into the main room, the tiny bottle in hand, and climbed back into bed. He grabbed Cas and pushed him towards the head of the bed, making him sit up a little more and lean against the headboard. Cas had started all of this gay shit—and Dean was gonna fucking _finish it_.

He didn’t open up the flavored stuff first. No, he set that aside and opened up the other one, squeezing a little out on his fingers. Then he reached down between Cas’s legs, pushing up between his thighs and going straight for the back door entrance. But he didn’t push inside, like he knew Cas wanted. No, he just rubbed gently, keeping the pressure constant and the pace even, knowing it was teasing the hell out of him. This was good—doing this, he could tilt his hand and arm just right and massage Cas’s balls with the heel of his palm and his wrist.

Dean was generally quite proud of the fact that he was a little out of his depth here, that he _didn’t_ know how to please another guy in bed like this—but at the moment it was a bit irritating. While he knew how to drive a woman wild with a little back door dancing, he just—it was _different_ with a guy. It just _was_. And he knew that because more than once in the past he’d been enjoying a blowjob from a girl and she’d suddenly make things ten times more awesome by licking down past his balls or giving him a little finger action (which wasn’t gay when a girl did it), and he’d been able to tell that what she was doing wasn’t quite the same as what he’d be doing if the situation was reversed. So while he was _glad_ he didn’t have a lot of experience and knowledge about, you know, how to be fucking _gay_ , he still was at a bit of a loss because he was pretty sure that applying the exact same techniques he’d used with women wouldn’t quite work here.

Well, no time like the present to figure things out! And Cas was gonna sit there and _endure every minute of it_.

Dean rubbed a little harder, moving to press his fingers all along his taint like he liked it, and Cas grunted softly, leaning his head back as he closed his eyes and wriggling his hips against the pressure. Dean leaned forward, keeping his hand where it was and halting about a foot away from Cas’s face.

“Look at me,” Dean commanded. Cas looked up and opened his eyes, zeroing in on Dean’s face. “Cas,” Dean continued, low and deceptive, making Cas think he wasn’t about to unleash all manner of torments on him. “You want me to suck your cock?”

Cas inhaled sharply at the combination of Dean’s blunt words and Dean pushing harder, sliding back down to tease his asshole again, almost slipping inside of him but withdrawing right before he did. “ _Yes_ ,” he breathed.

“No, it doesn’t work like that, Cas,” Dean growled, abruptly making his rubbing quick and hard for a few seconds, making Cas shudder and groan. “You _tell_ me you want it.”

“I _want_ you to, Dean,” Cas moaned.

Cas’s hips jerked and he whimpered when Dean abruptly pushed his fingers into him, two at once and right up to the second knuckle, and then reached down with his other hand to touch and tease Cas’s stiff prick.

“ _What_ do you want me to do? Say it, Cas,” Dean demanded, and now it was _Cas’s_ turn to make the girly noises and writhe on the sheets when Dean moved his fingers, but not in and out like before—no, now he was just moving them _inside_ of him, poking around to figure out how this worked, his motions tentative because hey, new territory, but it was time to explore like he was the goddamn pornographic Louis and Clark.

“Dean—” Cas didn’t finish his sentence, his words cutting off with a choking noise as he bucked convulsively against Dean’s fingers, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth falling open. Oh, so that was a good spot? Well, okay, then—Dean kept his fingers moving, trying to hit it again, pushing deeper.

“You _say it_ , Cas. You _tell me_ you want me to suck your cock. _Say it!_ ”

“I—I w-want you to suck my cock!” Cas wheezed.

Oh, now that had no business being that hot, hearing Cas talk like that.

“No, no, not like that—ask _nicely_ ,” Dean drawled, moving both hands back and forth now.

“D-Dean, I don’t—”

Dean shut him up just like Cas had done to him before, twisting the fingers deep in his ass even as he forced in a third, and squeezing his dick low and tight. “ _Ask_ me to suck your cock, Cas. And say _please_.”

He didn’t stop moving, _making_ Cas just try and talk through everything going on south of the border, but somehow he managed it, thrashing his head back and forth. “I—please s-suck— _please_ suck my cock, Dean!”

Man. He hadn’t even gotten _started_ and Cas was already a wreck. This was going to be the most awesome revenge _ever_.

Okay, he’d reward Cas immediately… _this_ time. He let Cas’s dick go, grabbing the flavored lube where he’d left it and unscrewing it with one hand, keeping the three fingers he had in Cas’s ass moving slowly and gently. He leisurely squeezed the tube over Cas’s dick, letting it drizzle down on his skin, just enough for flavor. Once he capped it again, listening to Cas’s hard breathing, he wiggled down until he was between Cas’s legs. He darted his tongue out, dragging just the tip along the length of Cas’s prick and smearing through the lube, the vanilla strong, and when he felt Cas’s hips buck beneath him, he glanced up to see what he knew he would see—Cas staring down at him, his mouth hanging open, waiting with barely restrained anticipation.

“Don’t you come,” Dean ordered. His fingers curled around the base of Cas’s cock. “You hear me? _Don’t_ come.”

Cas’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I won’t,” he whispered.

Goddammit, Dean was the one doing the turning on here, so Cas needed to stop saying things in a way that was seriously turning _him_ on.

Now, the fact of the matter was that whenever Dean went down on Cas, he didn’t…enjoy it. Oh, he liked making Cas happy and all, but it was still disgusting, and so any time he did it, he just went down there to suck him for a few then go back up—thing was, that was all Cas ever needed. But when _Cas_ went down on _Dean_ , it was one of the most elaborate floor routines ever created, and to both Dean’s satisfaction and outrage, was seriously the most fantastic head that he’d ever gotten.

There was no denying the inequality in that situation. When Cas exerted himself, he did a damn fine job of driving Dean insane. But just Dean’s minimal effort on blowjobs easily made _Cas_ insane…so now, Dean wanted to know just what _effort_ would do to him. Oh, there were some things he was _so_ not doing to Cas while down here now, like going deep (and he was horrified to catch himself feeling almost _indignant_ that Cas could do that and he couldn’t), but there were _plenty_ of other things he could try.

Like circling the head of Cas’s cock with his tongue while he sucked on it. And lookie there, Cas shuddered all over and let out a sound like a leaky balloon. This was gonna be fun.

Man, he’d been giving Cas the occasional blowjob for a few years now—why had it taken him so long to get the flavored lube? It wasn’t like he’d never used it before. But with this stuff, it just took a little bit and he could sit here and lap at the leaking slit of Cas’s prick over and over again, just like Cas did to him, and _not_ have to put up with the nasty taste too much. Less he had to deal with that, the more he could keep it up, and the longer he could keep Cas writhing and moaning. Plus, just sitting here licking at the head wasn’t hell on his tongue and didn’t make his jaw stiff.

After he pushed his tongue deep, all up in Cas’s cock and making him wheeze loudly, he slowly slid Cas’s cock into his mouth, sucking gently, his motions shallow. He’d pulled one out but still had the other two fingers deep in Cas’s ass and kept those movements tiny and gentle, too (all while keeping an eye on him, because if his orgasm snuck up on him again while Dean had his cock in his mouth, there would be no more _nothing_ tonight—or _ever again_ —and Cas could sleep outside). Cas wanted it rough, huh? Well, he was gonna have to ask for that, too.

He went as deep as he usually went (depressingly—no, _not_ depressingly, goddammit!—only about halfway), but then stopped and held it, stroking his tongue along the underside of Cas’s dick only a little clumsily as he sucked, getting a nice groan for his efforts. Or maybe Cas groaned because he’d managed hit the sweet spot again with his still-working fingers. Jesus—he was actually having to essentially relearn where the g-spot was. He’d spent months finding it the first time around!

Dean went back to familiar territory for a few, just up and down and sucking, now pushing his fingers in and out. Cas’s hips were rocking, his fingers flexing against the bedspread. But Dean pulled off of Cas’s cock before his tongue could get raw like it always did and just started giving his dick little licks, breathing against his slick flesh. The vanilla was almost gone; he’d have to give himself another shot if he was gonna keep this up, he mused as he sucked hard at the end of Cas’s prick, chasing the last of the sweet flavor and feeling Cas shiver.

After he pulled his lips away from Cas’s cock, he glanced up. He wasn’t surprised to see Cas propped up on his elbows, his jaw unhinged as he stared down at him—dammit, he hated when Cas did that. Dean licked a little at his lips, narrowing his eyes, using his free hand to loosely jack him. Hmm—think like Cas. What _really_ turned Cas on the most?

Stupid thought—Dean knew what turned Cas on the most. What turned him on the most was fucking turning _Dean_ on, and it irritated the life out of him. Why couldn’t he be a normal person and think of himself in bed once in a while?

Well, maybe he could do something with that in his little quest for vengeance.

Flicking his tongue out to brush across his cock, Dean gave Cas a speculative look. “Cas,” he murmured, “you enjoying this?”

Cas nodded, his throat working furiously.

“So you like it when I suck it, huh?” As if proving a point, he leaned down for a quick suck and Cas gasped. “You like it when I suck your cock?” Cas nodded again and jumped when Dean squeezed his prick. “Tell me you like it when I suck your cock.”

“I like it when you suck my cock,” Cas breathed.

God _damn_ , Dean was gonna have to make it a point to do this more often. Cas moaned as Dean went down again, just more up and down, but he only did it for a few seconds before looking up again.

“And do you like to suck _my_ cock?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded eagerly, biting his lower lip, his eyes squeezed shut as Dean jabbed his thumb hard at the tip of his dick. “Come on. _Say it_ , Cas.”

He made a guttural sound as Dean squeezed his prick again and drove the fingers up his ass in deeper. “I— _ah!_ —I l-love sucking your cock, Dean.”

No fair adlibbing.

“So,” Dean practically purred, finally sitting up and sliding his fingers out of Cas’s ass, squeezing his balls as his other palm sank into the mattress to support him. Cas opened his eyes when Dean stopped inches from his mouth, staring hard at him. “You wanna suck my cock, Cas?”

Dean just kept massaging Cas’s balls as he tried to reply, even though he was nodding almost frantically. “Yes, Dean,” he groaned.

“Yes _what_?” Dean demanded, releasing his balls to grab his dick and jerk it hard a few times.

Cas’s eyes flew open and he stared hard at Dean, his gaze fiery, and it did all kinds of things to the throbbing heat in his belly. “ _Yes_ , I want to suck your cock, Dean,” Cas growled, his insistent tone rather undermined by the obvious desperation, and even though it turned him the fuck on, Dean was still completely baffled by how much Cas loved to give him blowjobs.

Well, Dean wasn’t quite done. He pumped his fist again, brushing his lips against Cas’s but pulling away when he tried to lean forward to kiss him properly. “Why do you wanna give me a blowjob so bad, Cas?” he whispered.

Cas’s hands suddenly knotted in Dean’s hair and he grunted as he fell forward against him as Cas lunged up and yanked him against him. Cas didn’t seem to feel the way his head thumped against the headboard, no, he was too busy cramming his tongue down Dean’s throat, but that was okay, because Dean was pretty busy letting him. When he finally broke off with a gasp, Cas held Dean’s face close to his own, his fingers still tight. “Because you like it so much, Dean,” he breathed. “Because it makes you feel good. Because I _want_ to suck your cock—because I _love_ it. _Please_ let me give you a blowjob.”

And to think Dean had once freaked out just hearing Cas talk about oral straight up.

He couldn’t help but kiss Cas again, hard and deep, tasting every part of that familiar mouth. Then, after briefly rubbing his still-wet hand on the bedspread, he reached down and gripped Cas by the arms, rising up on his knees and taking Cas with him, still teasing Cas’s tongue with his own. He finally pulled back when they were both up on their knees, keeping his forehead against Cas’s. “If you wanna suck my dick, Cas, you do things my way. No attacking me like before.”

“I won’t,” Cas murmured against his mouth.

“Then why don’t you get down there and suck me off, hmm?” Dean smirked. Cas’s face was ridiculously eager, but Dean tightened his grip on his arms before he could shimmy down and start paying him lip service. “I mean it—slow, Cas.”

He nodded again, and Dean finally let him go.

Cas didn’t kiss his way down Dean’s torso like usual; he just dragged his hands and his mouth down Dean’s skin so he could get there as quick as possible. He was that excited to get to blow Dean. Because he was insane. Dean stayed up on his knees as Cas dropped down on his hands, musing for a moment that he’d never gotten head from him in this particular position. Cas had sucked him off against a door and a wall, while Dean was in a chair, and sitting or lying down in bed, of course, but never like this, on his hands and knees, his face down low by his hips and the long pale line of his back stretched out in front of him, with his ass in the air. Already Dean had a feeling he’d be interested in repeating the experience as Cas slowly curled his fingers around his cock and rubbed his cheek against his hip.

Cas wasted no time in sliding Dean’s prick into his mouth, but he did it unhurriedly. Dean only allowed himself to close his eyes and tilt his head backwards for a few seconds—no, couldn’t do that, he had to keep an eye on the little cocksucker. Dean put his hand on the back of his head, winding his fingers in his hair, staring down and watching as Cas sucked his cock. Cas still had no right to look so orgasmic about it, because he wasn’t the one receiving, dammit. But of course that didn’t stop him, and he still looked _enraptured_ about having Dean’s dick in his mouth, just like he _always_ did. Dean leaned down, trailing the fingers of his other hand down Cas’s spine and then back up, sighing as his prick slipped in and out of that softly sucking mouth, skilled fingers high between his thighs teasing his sack.

Dean already knew he wasn’t gonna be able to let Cas be in charge for too long—no, there would not be one of Cas’s Mouth Marathons today. For one, Dean knew that if he did, he would not last long for the sex part—not after that stunt Cas pulled before. For two, he suspected Cas wouldn’t last too long either, not with how he obviously turned on he was already and how bad he got off on giving head. So Dean soon had both of his hands in Cas’s hair, his hips gently rocking, making Cas let _him_ set the pace for a change. Cas seemed to get the message and stayed still, just sucked and moved his tongue, letting Dean fuck his mouth. Man, he just really wanted Dean to fuck him today, didn’t matter which end.

Dean grunted when he pulled back and Cas reached up to grip his hip, making him pause a moment so he could lick at the head of his cock and take a breath, and then he took Dean deep, all the way, _hmming_ around his prick. Fuck, that always felt _so good_ , and Dean pulled back and shivered as Cas sucked hard when he did, and then Dean thrust slowly forward again, back into that wet, hot pressure…

Cas stared adoringly up at him the whole time as Dean started fucking his throat in earnest—not slamming into him, but just thrusting steady and deep, over and over, and watching the way his wet cock was sliding in and out of his mouth while Cas fucking _looked_ at him sent the heat racing up and down his spine and coalescing in his belly and his balls. The fact that he knew, in the back of his mind, that he could fuck his face _hard_ and _fast_ , just fucking _ream_ his throat—and that Cas would probably fucking _thank him_ when he was done—did not help. But no—that was something he just refused to do.

Dean thrust deep one more time, his fingers tightening a bit and holding Cas where he was for just a little longer and seeing sparks behind his eyes when Cas worked his throat and tongue on him the whole time, and then pulled back so Cas could breathe again. He was pleased that he didn’t shake much as Cas took the time while catching his breath to lick all up and down Dean’s cock, his hand stroking up and down as he did. And there was the tip of his tongue, pushing insistently at the head, and Cas _knew_ that drove Dean wild when he licked all up in his dick, and then Cas tilted his head up, his lips parted, Dean’s prick brushing lightly at the corner of his mouth, with that _look_ in Cas’s eyes as he panted quietly, just stroking Dean loosely…

“ _Dean_ ,” he breathed, and before Dean had finished shuddering he continued. “Are you enjoying this?”

_Oh, you son of a bitch._

“Yes, I fucking am,” Dean growled at him. “Now shut up and fucking _suck my dick_ , you mouthy bitch.”

The minute he said it, some part of him worried that Cas wouldn’t get it because he’d never used that kind of talk in bed before and now Cas would be all anxious—or worse, _crushed_ —but he needn’t have bothered because Cas just obediently put Dean’s cock back in his mouth but didn’t move, just _sucked_ , and Dean started thrusting again, harder and faster than before, but no, even though he was pissed off, _no reaming_. And— _fucking hell_ , was Cas _groaning_ around his prick, he _was_ , and it felt _good_ , so good Dean’s thrusting stuttered a bit, his fingers tightening in Cas’s hair.

Dean stared down the whole time, watching his hips move, watching his cock moving in and out of his lips, watching Cas’s hands touch everything his mouth didn’t, watching those _eyes_ turn up and stare into his and they were all, “oh, _use me_ , big boy,” and now Dean was shaking from the effort it took not to just let go.

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to stop because this wasn’t the endgame this time, and he had no intention of pounding _this_ end, thank you. It was time to calm down. So he thrust deep one more time, moaning softly as Cas sucked hard, his tongue sliding over his skin, and then finally pulled out, his cock slipping wetly out of Cas’s mouth. He was mesmerized momentarily by that little line of saliva going from the tip of his cock to Cas’s swollen lower lip, but he shook it off, merely tugging lightly on Cas’s hair and dragging him up to his mouth and kissing him, releasing his hair to wrap his arms tightly around him and hold him close.

Tearing away, he buried his face against Cas’s throat, Cas’s hands clinging to his shoulders as he caught his breath. Dean too was breathing as evenly as he could, slowly winding down again—slower than usual, too, because the way they were sitting together, kneeling like this, their cocks slid against each other with the slightest movement and that so was not helping him calm down.

But he finally was back in safe territory, and so trailed one hand down over the curve of Cas’s ass, resting his hand lightly against his left cheek. “Still wanna have sex?” he murmured in his ear, keeping quiet.

Cas inhaled a little. “Yes—I want it,” Cas answered breathily against his neck.

“You want what?” Dean asked, a little louder.

Cas stilled. “I want you to have sex with me,” he said.

Dean suddenly squeezed Cas’s butt hard, making him gasp and jerk his hips against Dean, his cock bumping forward against him. Dean reached up with his free hand and yanked Cas’s head back by the hair, making him look at him. “You want me to fuck you?” he demanded.

The crazed, desperate look was already back, and Cas nodded furiously. “ _Yes_ , Dean. Please. _Fuck me._ ”

Holy _shit_. That asshat had _no right_ to turn him on that bad. He was gonna pay for that.

Dean glanced down; the heavy lube was still on the bed beside him. He turned back to Cas, his jaw set. “Get the condom,” he growled.

Cas scrambled over to the table by the bed with all speed, reaching for the rubber that _he_ put there, the bastard, because this had _all_ been part of his perverted little plot. Well, he just hadn’t counted on _Dean Fucking Winchester_.

He skittered back over to Dean, trying to press the condom in his hand, but Dean just grabbed his wrist, looking him right in the eye. “Get on your hands and knees,” he hissed, “and back your ass up to me.”

Dean unwrapped his condom while Cas did exactly as he was told, obedient and prompt and _goddammit_ , it was so fucking hot, watching him bend over like that. But he couldn’t be paying attention to that right now, because he was busy—busy remembering _her_. _Theresa._

He’d been barely twenty years old. It’d been a lull between jobs, and Dean had talked Dad into letting him just go off and have a couple of nights to himself. He’d hit a bar with a fake I.D., and _she’d_ slid into the seat next to him barely ten seconds after he sat down. She was about ten years older than he was and smokin’ hot, and those black leather boots on her mile-long legs had been enough to make his mouth go dry. Her smile had been all speculation and craftiness, and looking back on it, he’d been so naively, pathetically eager that his tongue was practically hanging out on the table. He’d only paid for one round of drinks before she’d invited him to her place and he’d jumped at the chance, but only when she’d opened the door to her bedroom did he realize just what he’d gotten into.

Theresa. Or, as he’d been forced to call her all night, _Mistress_.

He’d never been with a genuine dominatrix before. He’d done his best to pretend like he _wasn’t_ shocked by the mounted row of flails and whips and paddles she had next to her bed, and had to force himself not to gape at all the vinyl and leather buckles and straps and gags in her closet, and oh, sure, she wanted to tie him down, that was fine by him, he did this _all the time_!

And…well, it’d been great. No, that wasn’t the right word—it’d been fucking _awesome_ , the way she’d made him _ask_ for everything—made him _beg_ for everything—and punished him when he spoke out of line (and, subsequently, he spoke out of line way more than he should’ve). She’d dominated him in every sense of the word.

 _Every_ sense.

He’d nearly had a heart attack when he saw her turn around and that strap-on had been dangling from two fingers. Her look had been sly and knowing but still inquisitive, because even though she was all force and subjugation, she wasn’t a damned rapist; she’d been a real pro and very good about making sure things were okay, one way or another asking if she could keep going. And he’d almost said no. He’d panicked and almost blurted out the safeword (which was “pansy-ass”) right then so he could get out of there, to run home to his daddy, because Theresa had been offering to _bone him up the ass_.

In the end, his stupidity and still-adolescent bravado (and a tiny, _tiny_ spark of curiosity) had won out and he’d tried to look all cool like yep—he did that, too! He was just as experienced as she was!

And she’d done it. She’d fucked him—she’d made him _her_ bitch. And…

…he’d loved every fucking minute of it.

To this day he really wasn’t sure exactly what she had done back there, but whatever it was, she’d had him all but _screaming_ by the time she let him come. ‘Course, she’d been all smirking mockery the whole time, calling him a sweet little virgin peg while she fucked him; he hadn’t fooled her one bit with his attempt to pretend that he was all experienced, but it didn’t matter. His mind was too blown to bother being embarrassed at getting caught.

Well, it was time to remember things—time to figure out just what the fuck Theresa had been doing back there, what her moves had been, what angles she’d used, everything. Because Dean had Cas down on all fours just like Theresa’d had him, and he was gonna _fuck_ Cas—and he wanted to do it _right_ , goddammit.

And by the end of it, he wanted that manipulative little prick to shriek _just like he had_ that night.

But first things first. Shrieking later. Begging _now_.

‘Kay, he was bagged and ready to go, but he didn’t lube up—in fact, he didn’t even grab it yet. Instead, he just slapped his hands on Cas’s hips and yanked him back, grinding his own hard-on against Cas’s ass and making him moan, before he skimmed his hands up Cas’s sides and leaned over him, wrapping his arms around him.

“All right, Cas,” he murmured, shifting so he could drag the tip of his nose along Cas’s flesh all the way up until he was right behind his ear. “We’ll do this. But…” He slowly licked the soft skin at the nape of his neck. “…we do it my way.”

“Yes,” Cas managed, his response shivery and excited.

“We’ll fuck,” Dean continued, and now he was working down, just like Cas had done to him before he’d attacked his ass earlier, just placing little tantalizing kisses and licks and nibbles down his back between words. “I’ll _fuck_ you. Just how you want it. But there are _rules_.” Who knew he’d ever be using Theresa as a mentor and not just a jerk-off fantasy.

“You do what I say.” He dragged his tongue down his spine. “You say what I tell you to.” He slid a hand up between Cas’s legs and squeezed his balls. “I set the pace.” He reached forward, lightly stroking Cas’s stiff prick and enjoying his shaking breaths. “But most of all…” Dean sucked gently at a spot right at the top of Cas’s ass, thinking it was probably about the same spot Cas had given him a hickey—maybe lower. “…you _don’t_ come.” He sucked a little harder. “I mean it. _Don’t come._ Not until I say you can.” Cas grunted when Dean bit him. “You do whatever it takes. You are not coming until I say you can. You get me, Castiel?” he demanded, using his full name and punctuating his words with a hard squeeze on his dick so Cas would know he meant business.

“Y-yes, Dean,” he practically whimpered—the good kind of whimpering, meaning he was into this, so Dean could just keep on doing it.

He sat back up, finally snagging the lube off of the bed and slicking his hand up and his cock while he was at it. He knew he could probably just start at Cas right now, no need for finger-play, ‘cause he’d done plenty of that earlier—not to mention that Cas was already well-fucked from before. But where was the fun in that?

Cas shivered and sighed when Dean slid just one finger into him, slowly moving in and out, his other hand tight on his hip to keep him still. “You like this?” Dean asked.

“I like that,” Cas breathed.

Of course Cas was a fast learner. Wasn’t he always? After all, it had only taken him about _four_ blowjobs before he’d perfected his technique, so why would learning dirty-talk and begging be any different?

Dean made it two fingers, pushing deeper. “You like this even more?” he asked, leaning down to lick a little up Cas’s spine.

“Yes, Dean, I like that even more,” Cas whispered, his hands flexing against the bedspread.

“ _What_ do you like, Cas?” he demanded sharply, grabbing his buttcheek with a sharp slap, making Cas jump, even as he crammed his fingers deep, all the way to the third knuckle and making him whimper. “You like getting your ass fingered?”

“ _Mmmm_ ,” Cas moaned. “ _Yes_ , I _like_ getting my ass fingered.”

Dean bit his lip, trying to stay focused in spite of Cas being such a bitch, turning him on like that; okay, so, Cas liked getting fingered? _Well, then, here we go._ He went back to exploring, seeking, watching Cas carefully for—ah, there. Cas jerked suddenly, inhaling sharply and shuddering, so Dean stayed where he was, remembering that spot and slipping deep again to find that same spot again.

“You want me to fuck you now?” Dean demanded, timing his words with what he hoped would be another good prod.

Cas groaned, nodding wildly as he struggled to talk. “Y-yes, I want you to fuck me,” he answered shakily.

“You want me to fuck you hard?” Dean was up to three fingers, back and forth and twisting inside of him and Cas was shivering uncontrollably now.

“Yes. _Please._ ”

Dean leaned down again, slipping his fingers out and reaching around to stroke Cas’s prick, his chest pressing against Cas’s back as he slid up next to his ear again.

“You know how to ask if you really want me to fuck you hard,” Dean whispered.

Cas had his eyes squeezed shut as he took what were probably supposed to be steadying breaths but instead sounded like helpless panting, because Dean was so not making anything easier with the motions of his hand.

“Dean, _please_ —please fuck me hard.”

Goddammit, why was Cas dirty-talking so much hotter than anybody else who’d ever done it to him?

Dean wanted to comply with all speed, too. He was back in the “my boner is painful” stage again by this point, Cas was turning him on that bad. But no, he could endure it in the name of revenge. So instead, he took himself in hand but didn’t slide home; instead, he rubbed the head of his lubed-up cock all along Cas’s ass, gripping his hip tighter to hold him still when the little punk tried to lean backwards and _make_ Dean get inside of him. Cheater.

“So you really want me to fuck you?” Dean asked again, conversationally.

“Yes!” Cas whined pathetically.

“You won’t come?”

“N-no! _Please_ , Dean—”

“Well, if you really want me to fuck your ass—”

And Cas cut him off, looking over his shoulder just like the first time Dean had ever accidentally fantasized about fucking Cas like this, desperate, shaking, flushed, and he spoke out of turn, _begging_. “Dean, _please_ fuck my ass, as hard as you want—I won’t come until you say, I _swear_ — _please_ , Dean! _Please fuck me!_ ”

Okay. Dean would have been all for doling out a little punishment for Cas daring to speak over him, but that was too much—now he was just punishing _himself_.

So he lined up and once he found his target he eased in, biting his lip, just until the head of his dick was inside, giving Cas a minute to get used to it, and then he just slowly pushed his hips forward with one deliberate thrust, and he couldn’t help but groan with Cas when he was all the way in, as deep as he could go, his hips pressed up against Cas’s ass, and _Jesus_ , why had he _ever_ had problems with this, because this was fucking _awesome_.

Keeping his hands tight on Cas’s narrow hips, Dean slowly pulled back but immediately thrust forward, harder now, watching and listening. Cas didn’t seem uncomfortable at all this time—no tension, no unsexy sounds. Dean didn’t know if it was because he’d already done a fine job of prepping him before or if Cas was so desperate he just didn’t care, but either way, that was good news for Dean.

Back and forth, in and out. Not fast or hard like Cas wanted—like _Dean_ wanted—but just a nice, slow fuck and _God_ , it felt good. Cas was making soft little noises, and Dean loved hearing them. But he knew what he wanted to hear more right now.

“You love it when I fuck your ass?” Dean asked breathily, not stopping.

“Yes— _yes_ , Dean, I _love_ it when you fuck my ass,” Cas moaned.

“You want it faster?”

“Mm—yes. Faster. _Please._ ”

Dean obliged him, picking up the pace a little, but also trying to angle his hips so that he drove into him the way he remembered that Theresa had. Apparently, his memory was pretty good, because Cas made a guttural sound and pushed himself backwards, trying to force Dean in deeper.

Well, even though it was fucking awesome, Dean took a moment to acknowledge that this whole scene was also fucking _surreal_. It didn’t matter that he’d known Cas as a human longer than he’d known him as an angel—he still thought of him as the halo ‘cause he just _was_ , that’s how he’d _met_ him and how he probably always would be to him—and he’d just made him _beg_ to be fucked in the ass and now he was _doing_ it, making a fucking Angel of the Lord his little bitch. Sweet Christ, he was fucking an _Angel of the Lord_ up the ass and it was _all so fucking good_.

He kept everything going for a minute longer, and then he stopped cold, holding still all up in his ass and savoring the little whine Cas let out.

“You want it hard and fast now?” Dean questioned, not bothering to try and control his own panting as he grabbed the lube again for another squirt all around where Dean had stretched his ass wide.

“Yes—please, fuck my ass hard and fast,” came the desperate reply.

Seriously—caught on _way_ too quickly for his own good.

Again, refusing Cas would be more torment to himself rather than the guy who deserved it, so he seized Cas’s hips in a punishing grip, pulled almost all the way out, and then just lunged forward, fucking him for real now, and Cas groaned in ecstasy. _God_ , it was good, _so good_ , and it was _Cas_ , all _Cas_ , just bending over and _taking_ it, and letting him _pound_ his tight ass, _begging_ him to fuck him. Cas’s little cries and gasps were driving him fucking insane, and Dean leaned forward, pressing a hand against Cas’s shoulder as he thrust, making Cas go down to his elbows with his face in the pillows so that the tilt of their hips changed to what Dean remembered would be good if he could do it right, and then he pulled back and _slammed_ into him, hard, deep, and Cas _wailed_ Dean’s name.

“Don’t come, Castiel,” Dean panted furiously, and then he full-on slapped his ass, hard with his palm, savoring the loud _smack_ it made, glancing down and spotting the red handprint he left with satisfaction. He didn’t think Cas even noticed. “You hear me? Don’t you dare come, you little bitch.”

“I w-won’t—oh— _Dean_ —” Fucking _hell_ , he was so _wrecked_ , and the way he _said it_ , it was always the thing that got Dean going the most but this time, this _way_ —oh _God_ , he was looking back at him again—

Staying inside of him, he leaned over him once more, pushing him down with his hips, pressing his body against Cas’s and forcing him flat onto his stomach, but then he rolled back a little and taking Cas with him, not quite on their sides but enough so that he could reach around and grab Cas’s cock, making him keen pitifully, but he gripped him low and tight and squeezed him as he started moving again, thrusting hard, _fast_ , his head spinning, every part of him on fire. He buried his face against Cas’s shoulder and neck, listening to it all—the way his hips slapped against Cas’s ass, the way his breath came in hoarse pants, the way Cas was so _noisy_ , mewling and whimpering and sobbing and moaning and the way he was _talking_ —

“ _Dean—please—I can’t—_ ”

“You wanna come?” Dean managed, and he thrust faster, feeling everything building, racing to get to the edge Cas was already dangling over and trying to jump off.

“ _Yes, please, please let me, I can’t—I need—please, Dean—!_ ”

But he didn’t get to say anything else because Dean let go of his prick only to grab him and jack him like he liked it and commanding, “You come _now_ , Castiel,” and _yes_ , Cas _shrieked_ , wild and agonized and everything Dean wanted to hear as he came all over Dean’s fingers and the bed and Dean kept thrusting, kept _fucking_ , so close now and Cas wasn’t even done coming but Dean let him go and dragged his hand up to Cas’s mouth and his girly shrieks were muffled because he was licking at Dean’s fingers, sucking his own spunk off— _oh motherfucking Jesus Christ GOD—!_

Stars exploded across Dean’s vision and he was slammed with the full force of his orgasm, it hit him like a fucking _freight train_ , and he just howled it over and over, Cas, _Cas_ , _CAS_ , fucking _yes_ , _so good hot slick tight CAS—_

 _…Why couldn’t it last_ longer _?_ he thought sluggishly when it was over, barely registering that his fingers were still pressed against Cas’s lips, hot and sticky. He moved them weakly, smearing them across Cas’s mouth, only to shudder when he felt Cas’s tongue on them again, licking feebly at the smears of jizz.

Dean was still inside of him, going limp, and he felt like his whole body was made of Jell-O. Or maybe it was just his bones. The only sound was their labored breathing, and Dean could not remember feeling so…so damned _tired_ after sex in a very long time. He felt like he was about two seconds from passing out, just right here.

But no, he couldn’t do that. The only thing that involved more clean-up than mutual jerking off was…this. So, though it was a struggle, he pulled away from Cas’s damp body and slowly slid out of him, wincing at the sensations on his over-sensitive prick.

“Bathroom,” he mumbled, and when Cas didn’t move, he poked him hard in the back and made him jump a little. “Come on—bathroom. Go clean off, for Crissakes. Don’t sit there like that.”

Cas moaned pitifully as he all but oozed off of the bed, unsteady and wobbly. Dean didn’t watch his progress, his face still half-buried in his pillow in exhaustion, fighting to keep his eyes open. Once he heard the bathroom door shut, he forced himself to get up as well, becoming aware of a rising tide of irritation that in his efforts to blow Cas’s mind, he’d accidentally blown his own, too. Dammit.

Once he had the condom off and safely stashed in the trash, all wrapped up in a wad of tissues so no one would see, he washed his hands in the sink and gave his junk a perfunctory rubdown with a washcloth too. Then he just stumbled back to the bed, contemplating putting some shorts on but eventually deciding it wasn’t worth it. He was about to fall over, man. He stopped scowled when he saw the mangled and wet and _stained_ sheets of Cas’s bed and grudgingly went over to the other one. Fine, they’d use his bed for the rest of the trip. It was only one day. He’d live.

Dean was unsurprised that Cas took forever in the bathroom, but he made himself not just fall asleep right there, sitting up a little more under the blankets when the door opened again and Cas wandered back out.

Dean stared. Oh no. No—oh, shit.

The dawning realization of what he’d just done to Cas crashed down on top of him like a cow from the sky when he saw that familiar, achy, _wincing_ walk.

Oh, _fuck_.

He could only watch, appalled, as Cas tottered unsteadily over to the side of the bed and got under the covers, burrowing down and tucking himself up close to Dean, his fingers grasping and seeking, and Dean finally snapped out of it and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight and just—

Goddammit! He’d—he’d done it _again_! Oh, he’d had such a good time, yeah, being a total fucking ass-bandit, and it’d been _just great_ —at Cas’s expense. He’d _hurt_ him. He’d fucking _used_ him. He’d—

_Son of a bitch!_

See, _this_ was why he never wanted to do this kind of shit with Cas. Because Cas didn’t ever say a fucking thing when he didn’t like it! He wouldn’t yell the fucking safeword if his life depended on it, the sorry bastard!

 _Well, why would he? Not like you let him know there even_ was _a safeword._

Dean’s arms tightened and his jaw clenched. Cas just nuzzled his face up under Dean’s chin, and when he felt Cas’s fingers flexing gently against his ribs, right over his heart, and the most _contented_ sigh ever tickled the skin of his neck, he ground his teeth and shivered against the goosebumps that broke out all over him.

This was ridiculous. Why the hell was Cas so happy? He’d just gotten completely fucked over in _every_ sense of the word. He had no business making noises like that.

Dean couldn’t take it—he so didn’t want to talk, but he needed to. Otherwise, he’d just feel horrible the whole rest of the trip. “Cas,” he said uncomfortably, and looked down just as Cas looked up, all adoring and happy and sleepy and soppy. Dean ignored it—this was no time for soppy. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he managed.

Of course Cas would look confused. “What do you mean?” he asked.

And of course he wouldn’t get it so Dean would have to explain it. Crap.

“For…for that. Everything. For, uh…” He coughed. “…being too rough.”

Cas just blinked at him before shaking his head. “You weren’t, Dean.”

Dean scowled. “Cas, don’t you start up that selfless routine. I saw how you were walking—you are not okay.”

“I am,” he insisted. “It didn’t hurt. It doesn’t now.”

“So why’re you spraddle-legged?” Dean demanded.

“Dean.” Dean did not miss the firm, almost patronizing way he said it, and he grimaced. “I’m all right.” He closed his eyes and leaned down to rub his cheek against Dean’s shoulder. “I enjoyed it. All of it.” He looked up, his eyes big and dewy. “You didn’t hurt me.”

Dean glared at him. “Shut up,” he muttered, and pulled him close, pressing a kiss to his temple and rubbing familiar little circles on his back.

Cas was such a dick sometimes. Pretending he was fine to make Dean feel better? Huge dick. Well, Dean wasn’t buying it. Even if he really did mean it, it was only ‘cause he didn’t know any better—there was no way he was “fine” after getting fucking _sodomized_.

No more of that domination stuff for Cas. Dean refused. It just…dammit, Dean hated feeling like a puss, but he hated getting off while Cas was in pain _more_. He didn’t _do_ that shit. Withholding and making him beg was one thing, actively causing _pain_ was another. Dean just sucked at being gay, was all—so no more of that crap.

He tilted Cas’s face up to his so he could kiss him again, gently of course, and then settled down into the pillows, rolling onto his back and taking Cas with him (still gently). Cas happily went, pawing at his pulse points and wrapping himself around him like some kind of divine anaconda. Dean knew they’d both be asleep soon, so he just stroked his hair, nuzzling him back, and waited for Cas to doze off so he could, too. And he knew he’d wake up hot, letting Cas sleep _on_ him instead of next to him, but he wasn’t going to move him.

Seriously. No more of that submission thing. Dean was patently no dominatrix.

And he wasn’t fucking _gay_.

**Author's Note:**

> So! For anyone wondering, in this fic we were kind of running with Dean’s canonical romantic/sexual preferences in-show. Every one of his sex scenes features him on the bottom, and in particular, behind-the-scenes interviews have said that his night with the Amazon in Episode 7.13 “The Slice Girls” was some of the best sex of his life—which involved a fierce, forceful woman dominating the hell out of him. With that in mind, we thought it would be entirely likely that he’s been with a dominatrix before and loved it. Add to that the fact that all of his love interests have been assertive and strong, and that Eric Kripke himself has said that Dean is incredibly turned on by badassery, and yeah—he couldn’t help but be wildly horny for Badass Vampire Slayer Cas and wind up falling back into his somewhat sub behavior when he started ordering him around. But as for the second round, well, Dean is a sub with _women_. But since Cas is a dude, he can’t just let himself give in to his natural inclinations, and thus he went switch on us, taking the Dom role so he could “re-assert his masculinity.” Because he’s an idiot.
> 
> As for Cas, we thought that once an angel, always an angel. He may be human now, but he was an angel for much longer, and so on the one hand, he is used to being a subordinate and following orders without question. But on the other, he’s also an angel, used to having his _own_ orders to _his_ subordinates followed without question, and still with a touch of that arrogance that he is a celestial being and that he is smarter and knows better than humans so they should do what he tells them to. Hence he acts as a switch too. The end result being that both the boys dominated and got dominated for our viewing pleasure.
> 
> We hope it pleased!


End file.
